


How to Romance a Heartless

by prosecutorpumpkin



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ansem keeps a humanoid form here., Cunnilingus, Heartless Braig, M/M, Once again writing for the rarest of pairs., Porn With Plot, Post-Kingdom Hearts Birth By Sleep, Pre-Kingdom Hearts I, Scissoring, Speculative biology on Heartless genitals, so get ready for Unique Genitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 23:31:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosecutorpumpkin/pseuds/prosecutorpumpkin
Summary: Ansem isn't exactly begging for company during the quiet years preparing for the creation of his Kingdom Hearts. Nonetheless, company finds him.





	How to Romance a Heartless

**Author's Note:**

> This has a few divergences from canon, most prominently being Ansem's retention of his humanoid form and a little artistic liberty applied to the Heartless manufacturing process.

The sweeping vistas of Hollow Bastion suited the name of the world quite well.  
  


So was the conclusion Ansem drew time and time again, like some self-tested experiment, when he stood on one of its crumbling precipices; the pale lavender cliffs and ice-like fountains glistening in the dim light were gorgeous, if not still echoes of its former glory. From time to time, he would spot various flying Heartless, and he’d note with amusement how they seemed like vultures over the corpse of Radiant Garden. The world itself continued in this theme; beautiful, interesting, and dreadfully empty.  
  


For a man of science like himself, Ansem could find comfort in this solitude with little difficulty. It certainly didn’t pain his darkened Heart to be without human company. The echoing chambers, flickering with green flame and sinister electrical spark in strange juxtaposition, suited him just fine. While he let that overly prideful fairy, Maleficent, slink around while drunk on the promise of greater power, he was content to spend his time quietly running fingers over cold marble, sunk in the sweet, woody smell of books in Ansem’s...the former Ansem’s...private library.  
  


And so, as he usually did, he found himself now with nose in book. What was less expected, and yet had become familiar, was the company of one particular Shadow, who sat quietly by his foot whenever he took his prefered seat. At first, the Shadow had gone completely unnoticed. After all, what was one of the myriad common Heartless to Ansem, who was always looking for something new? Ignoring what was right in front of him, however, proved to be a mistake. Ansem, perhaps due to his unusual birth as a Heartless, or perhaps due to his sheer power among them, could tell each of his kin apart from another with the faintest of ease. Due to this power, it didn’t take him long to notice that this particular Shadow decided to follow him...everywhere.  
  


Around corners, into corridors; into chapels, into the open. Wherever Ansem found himself, that peculiar Shadow was never too far behind. Attributing the behavior to some sort of instinctual reverence lesser Heartless had for their masters seemed incorrect; while there were undoubtedly some that did openly fear him, this one seemed...friendly. The very concept of “friendliness” among Heartless made his eyes narrow and mouth twitch into a twisted smile; absolutely absurd. And yet, try as he may, he couldn’t quite narrow down the behavior to much else.  
  


Never did it make moves to steal Hearts Ansem had gathered for himself to devour; in fact, at times, it offered the stronger Heartless a ruby red Heart of its own. Never did it make moves to challenge him. Neither was it overly clingy; it kept an amount of respectful distance between the two, though never so much that it was out of sight. So when he peeked over his book to find those beady yellow eyes staring blankly back at him, he scrunched his nose with bafflement.  
  


“You’re a persistent one,” he said.  
  


The Heartless did not reply.  
  


Well...not traditionally.  
  


It was another observation Ansem had made, stumbled across accidentally while attempting to write on Heartless during a trip to the Realm of Darkness. As a Heartless himself, he seemed to have developed some sort of link between himself and the others. He could feel their “vibrations”; their incessant waves of hunger and weak tinges of desire and emotion that always boiled down to “want, need”. Occasionally, something else would ripple through the net--perhaps fear, or rage, or some other animal instinct. Heartless were never too intelligent, but they always throbbed with emotion. Such was the consequence of being a Heart boiled down to its barest components.   
  


The Shadow in front of him, too, sent an emotion through the line, a vague sort of fragment only Ansem himself could hope to understand.  
  


__ ‘Like you. Love you.’  
  


Ansem’s eyebrows flew up. For a moment, he merely stared at the small Shadow, tilting his head. Those emotions, those basic emotions that always boiled down to hunger or rage or fear...why did this Shadow defy that pattern? Clapping the book closed, he decided then and there to find out.  
  


After all...he had finally started to form a theory.  
  


Peculiar Shadow in hand, he wound through the castle until he found himself in a familiar, and dilapidated, laboratory. A certain thrill ran through him. It had been...a while...since he had properly put these machines, this equipment, to use. Computer. Test tubes. Centrifuges and beakers. All those and more awaited him, twinkling dully in the flickering electric glare of newly revived lights. One by one, he woke old, dust covered fixtures from years of sleep. The Shadow sitting in his grasp seemed to respond to the movements, antennae sticking up and twitching.  
  


_ ‘Familiar,’ _ the Shadow sent through the bond. Ansem grinned wickedly.  
  


“So they are.”  
  


A few more flipped switches and one of the bulbous test tubes to Ansem’s sides lit up in a brilliant blue. The Shadow moved its blank gaze between Ansem and the tube, as if drawing some conclusion of its own, but lacking the ability to piece it together. At the very least, it didn’t run for the door when Ansem placed it into the tube, delicately closing it shut, and walked over to the console to tinker with its settings.  
  


The tube began to make whirring noises. Ansem watched, unblinking, soaking in every minute detail of what was to happen. In seconds, the tube had gone from bright blue to almost completely pitch black, as if the Shadow had been pulled apart molecule by molecule and dispersed within the glass. The yellow glow of the Shadow’s eyes remained, and Ansem tracked them carefully...right until the point where they vanished altogether.  
  


With ginger movements, he stepped carefully over to the glass, pressing a gloved hand to the tube. The tube remained pitch black and still. Just as Ansem was prepared to write off the experiment as a hasty mistake, a bright yellow once again peered out from within, though noticeably missing half of the former pair. He stepped back, observing now with wide eyes and tight lips. He felt the need to hold his breath while knowing that it made no modicum of difference.  
  


“Let’s see if my hypothesis is correct,” he mused. “All hearts are, after all, born from Darkness. Rebirth, then…”  
  


A clawed hand suddenly slapped the glass from within, and the Darkness started to condense into a solid, human, figure. It hunched over as if it had forgotten how to stand straight, and began to form clothing, hair, a face. Ansem could feel a new emotion pulled from behind the usual Heartless selection...excitement. Happiness. Anticipation. As the figure started to finish its reformation, Ansem turned a few dials on the console, and the tube’s door slid open.  
  


What fell out was cloaked in shadow. On its knees, it stayed on the ground for a brief moment, as if gaining its bearings. Ansem immediately went over to it, studying its posture, its form, its familiarity. His familiarity. Silently, he begged for the figure to lift his face, to prove his thesis true. He refused to think of it as “hope”.   
  


Still, he hoped.  
  


And as if to respond to that brief surge of hope, the figure lifted his head. Ansem found himself with a faint, soft smile on his lips, which he resisted the urge to brush his fingers against in shock upon registering it. Braig. There he was. A face so unmistakable, even still missing that eye, even still possessing that scar. The newly formed man’s form had changed in the process; certainly the winding, bound fibers made of Darkness, looking so much like muscles around his arms and legs, were new, as were the throbbing electric blue veins that crawled from his empty eye socket. Claws had been added to his features, as did fangs, as Ansem spotted while Braig tried to work his jaw in an attempt to test its mobility.  
  


But, overall, it was still Braig. That man he trusted so far beyond others. That man he could still spare thought to when no one else was given such privilege.  
  


In the years alone residing in the castle with nothing but the scraping movements of Heartless and the occasional dark murmurings of Maleficent to keep him company, he had never thought himself lonely. He still didn't. But now, he realized that the company of his companion was infinitely more preferable...more pleasing, and more warming.  
  


He knelt, leaning forward to take an inky black strand of hair, and pulled it towards him, rubbing it softly between his fingers. Braig looked at him, dazed, and it was a moment before his eye found its focus. The look of confusion slowly melted from his face, and was replaced far more quickly with that of a cheeky grin and sharp gaze.  
  


“Hey there, Mister Master,” came that familiar, easy voice, and Ansem couldn’t help but laugh in turn. “What’s that chuckle for? Didja miss me? Man...feels like I took a long nap…”  
  


“Is that what it feels like, now? Being a Shadow,” Ansem murmured softly, as if to himself, and with a flourish of his hand summoned an Emblem to place upon Braig’s lost eye. “I should’ve known sooner it was you.”  
  


Braig brushed Ansem’s hand with his own, and then the Emblem, and rolled his eye. “Gettin’ possessive already? Didn’t you already mark me with that whole...Heart piecing thing? Y’don’t really gotta  _ stamp _ me too, Old Coot.”   
  


“Well, you  _ are _ still a Heartless. Surely you don’t expect me to stop tagging my experiments, now,  do you?”  
  


“Geeze, a scientist to the end…”  
  


“As if you aren’t.”  
  


“ _ As if _ , indeed.”   
  


Throughout the banter, both had kept a jovial tone, light and knowing. Braig’s little quips were a joy to hear again...a point which Ansem found himself appreciating with growing bafflement.  
  


Of course this attachment wasn’t new. Of course as a human, their relationship had been established, if not unspoken. But to have those little twinges of emotion resurge within him, to so quickly wake with Braig’s reappearance, shook Ansem.   
  


Braig finally stood, curiously flexing his fingers and testing his limbs, and gave a low whistle.  
  


“Got a bit of Vanitas’s look to it...you remember that kid, right?” He said, and Ansem nodded. “Wonder if that’s just a Darkness thing...or is that your input? Got some appearances to keep up, eh?”  
  


Ansem gave a wry smile. “It’s merely coincidence. Is that form not preferable?”  
  


“Compared to being a Shadow? Please! I can actually  _ think _ and move and...well, I mean it’s a pretty big improvement, let’s just say that.”  
  


“Yet even as a Shadow, you...recalled our relationship.”  
  


Pausing his exploration of how far his arms could rotate, Braig looked up and met Ansem’s eyes. His expression seemed conflicted...or perhaps incredulous.  
  


“Yeah I...of course I did. That’s…” He let his words drop off again, a seriousness crossing his face. “...That’s unusual, isn’t it. Heartless don’t usually act according to what they were as Humans...but, I knew it was you. Maybe it’s because you’re hard not to identify, even as a Heartless. Especially as a Heartless, y’know?”  
  


Though the explanation made sense, the way their eyes lingered on each other said words left unspoken. Another explanation, one to do with the Heart itself...and its emotions. It was as if both were holding their breath, waiting for the other to suggest it, while dismissing the thought all the same.  
  


“I’ll take your word for it,” Ansem offered, simply, and the burgeoning tension in the atmosphere dissipated.  
  


Shrugging his shoulders, Braig acquiesced and began to make his way to the door. “So, when were you plannin’ on givin’ me the tour,” he said, tossing a grin over his shoulder. “I know! I know. Same castle, right, but clearly a lot has changed...and my tiny Shadow brain wasn’t quite catching the details. I know you’re probably dyin’ to show me.”  
  


“You’ve come this far, and still you understand…” Ansem started, and then trailed off. He smiled. “You may not have caught onto the changes, but you still know me quite well.”  
  


“Hah! Everyone knows you enjoy a good lecture, Old Coot. So let’s start with your name...am I gonna get stabbed again if I call you Xehanort, or should I stick with Ansem?”  
  


“Xehanort will do nicely.”  
  


“Oho, is that so?”  
  


Conversation flowed easily between the two, Ansem catching Braig up on the various ongoings during the absence of everyone else’s Nobodies and pointing out, with some bit of smug self satisfaction, the variety of Heartless that now called Hollow Bastion home. Braig, for his part, was genuinely interested, though not above making the occasional snide remark or two about Maleficent’s overconfidence (“Really, she thinks she’s running the show? As if; that lady’s gonna need a reality check real soon.”) or the relative loneliness of Ansem’s existence. As they descended on one of the curiously powered lifts, Braig wrapped an arm around Ansem’s shoulders, shaking his head.  
  


“I know you’re not  _ here _ all the time, what with going around destroying Worlds and all that, but it’s still pretty pathetic you got left all alone while the rest of...er,  _ us _ , I guess...are off making their own clubhouse.”  
  


“Solitude is the soul of a researcher.”  
  


Braig barely let those words leave Ansem’s mouth before letting loose an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t gimmie that! I know you missed me.”  
  


Ansem stayed quiet, disembarking with nary a word while Braig released him, paused, and followed a step behind.  
  


“Perhaps I did,” he finally admitted. He had no idea why it was so hard to say. Ansem...no, Xehanort...had never formed attachments easily, but he was no stranger to friendship, to positive relationships. Even if he did eventually throw most of them to ruin, it wasn’t new, it wasn’t unique, but...why was this so hard? It felt like a weakness, and it was a bitter pill for him to swallow.  
  


As if able to read his mind, Braig called out from behind him: “I’ll admit, I’m pretty flattered someone so powerful decided to side with me. I’ll say you made the right choice, if you don’t mind me braggin’.”  
  


Ansem could practically hear the wink (blink?) in Braig’s voice and snorted in amusement.  
  


“Perhaps I did,” he repeated, and smiled when he heard Braig’s laugh in response.  
  


It didn’t take long until they wound their way back to where Ansem started and finished every day: the library. Braig glanced around running fingers over books and tables as if he were experiencing it all for the first time.  
  


“Nothing’s changed here.”  
  


“One of the few rooms that didn’t.”  
  


“You almost sound attached, Xehanort. Didn’t expect that from you.”  
  


Ansem took a seat in his usual arm chair, propping his chin on his hand. “This room is one of the few things I  _ let _ myself get attached to.” He, for a moment, averts his gaze before meeting Braig’s eye once more. “As are you.”  
  


“Well, well, well! Sounds like you’re about to call Radiant Garden...Hollow Bastion, whatever you’re callin’ it now, home.” Braig strode over to Ansem, sitting on the arm of the chair, leaning over and resting a cheek on top of the other’s head. “Could it be you're plannin’ on settlin’ down?”  
  


“Your jokes haven’t improved in the slightest.”  
  


“You know you like ‘em.”  
  


“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ansem replied, though unable to keep the clear look of fondness off his face.  
  


Perhaps drawn in by that little admission, those cracks of “like” that came through Ansem’s otherwise calm and collected demeanour, Braig dipped his head to brush his lips against the other’s. Ansem pressed back without hesitation. Soft exchanges between touch starved lips turned into something more desperate, a little more passionate.   
  


Braig drew back, looking electrified by the experience. “It’s been way too long.”  
  


“Then let’s make up for lost time,” Ansem said, and drew Braig’s face back in. Braig maneuvered himself in front of the other, and then slowly sank between his legs. Excited fingers trailed down Ansem’s chest and stomach, and eventually landed on the front of his trousers, feeling him steadily.  
  


Ansem, in turn, opened his legs a little wider to provide better access, and began undoing his pants, sliding them down just far enough to reveal what he knew Braig hungered to see. Indeed, that Heartless link buzzed anew with the passion ignited in Braig’s chest.  
  


“I’m surprised you still got somethin’ down there...but then again...maybe I do too? If I’m still feelin’ somethin’...”  
  


“Two Heartless capable of sexual reproduction,” Ansem mused. “Where could this lead…?”  
  


“Okay settle down smartass, I know you wanna fuck so let’s get on it.”   
  


Ansem burst into laughter.  
  


What was revealed between Ansem’s legs was an organ Braig had never seen before on Xehanort. A vertical slit, dark and thin, though just enough of the inside was revealed that the purplish blue of many Heartless’ insides shone through. Though externally looking very similar to a vagina, there were just enough differences from one to make it clear that this was an organ that was unique to Heartless, including some ruffled edges on the external lips that reminded Ansem himself of the curled edges of leaves in the Fall.  
  


"Oh, this is new," Braig said, sliding a finger down the slit, eliciting a shiver from Ansem. A hint of curiosity lingered in his voice, a fragment of scientific exploration unearthed from days since past.  
  


“And something you and I will both explore at a pace that  _ I _ will decide,” responded Ansem calmly but firmly, and moved Braig’s hand away despite the want that pounded in his head.  
  


Braig nodded, backing off, and let his eye linger on the other, hanging onto his every movement as Ansem removed his gloves.  
  


Lips parted in an easy sigh, Ansem’s hand slid downwards, precise fingers parting the wet slit and rubbing the edges. His eyes fluttered and warm lips wrapped around a moan; Braig couldn’t help but slide his tongue over his own pair as he watched Ansem’s folds swell and grow temptingly slick. Ebony droplets rolled down his slit, and, finding himself suitably prepared, came more readily, dripping across his fingers as Ansem plunged one, then two digits inside. An overwhelming pleasure burst through that invisible cord that connected them. It surged, pressing against Braig’s mind, conveying those tense vibrations, and Ansem watched him move forward, with a thrumming growl in his throat and hunger in his eye. He would not get to slake his thirst for those wet folds. Not yet. Not until Ansem himself gave him permission.  
  


“Perhaps we should be careful, start slowly,” came Ansem’s lustful voice, rousing Braig’s attention. “We are in uncharted territory. I should consider this a new chapter of my report…”   
  


He moaned and spread his legs wider as he hit a sensitive spot; his slit grew more wet, and Braig uttered a tense groan in response.   
  


“After all, we are the only two Heartless capable of sexually reproducing...and I’m sure neither of us are interested in the ‘reproduction’ part just yet.” Ansem chuckled.  
  


“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Braig said with a slightly desperate laugh, leaning his head on the inside of Ansem’s thigh.   
  


Ansem watched with a sly smile the way Braig’s breath hitched, felt that need wind tighter through their link. “You may taste.”  
  


“Fuck,  _ thank _ you,” was all Braig could spit out before pressing forward.   
  


His hot, long tongue darted out and licked slow, long stripes between Ansem’s folds as he spread them further. A shudder and pleased growl slipped out from Ansem’s lips, savoring the sensation. Urged by the response, Braig continued probing inward, tasting every drop, drinking in the copious juices, and a firm hand grasped his hair, forcing his face to stay where it was as Ansem pressed his slit even closer. Between heavy breaths and the fog of lust clouding his mind, Ansem noted with curiosity his folds sucking actively at Braig’s deft tongue, and how some deep spot within him pulsed and throbbed, as if ready to release. He fought that impulse, however; for the time being, he wanted nothing more than to continue taking in that slick, skilled tongue, and the hunger with which Braig devoured him.  
  


“Such a good boy,” Ansem teased, using Braig’s playful taunt against him, and he felt wonderful vibrations as Braig groaned between him.  
  


Braig’s own clawed hand slipped down to his own crotch, and the flat, featureless plate that covered his area suddenly parted, a wet, hot, waiting slit opening up for him to touch and finger at as it dripped dark juices messily over his digits. Ansem drank in the view. Noting how naturally the action occurred, he absentmindedly considered what other Heartless may have the same features...a line of thought immediately interrupted as Braig hit that spot inside of him, making him grunt and thrust his hips forward.  
  


“Right there, Braig,” he said soothingly, though an edge rapidly seeped through his voice. “Keep it right...there.”  
  


He could practically feel Braig’s grin against his slit. The ministrations, both Braig’s own to himself and to Ansem, grew more intense. Whatever psychic bond it was that they as Heartless shared thickened, grew in strength and expanded, flooding the room. Shadows from every corner began peeking up, sliding forward, drawn to the power the two dominant Heartless projected. As their activities seemed to edge closer to a climax, Ansem immediately pulled Braig away, earning a mildly confused noise from him.  
  


“Hey, I…why’d you stop?” There was a cross between disappointment and fear in Braig’s voice, as if expecting that somehow he’d fucked up. Nonetheless, a smile slid across his face. “Too intense for ya?”  
  


With rolled eyes and a knowing, but breathy sigh, Ansem mirrored the smile, though a little more thinly. “My, Braig; you don’t know nearly enough to overwhelm me just yet.”  
  


The falter to Braig’s smile with the blow to his ego merely made the other laugh.   
  


Rising from his seat, Ansem made the short stride over to the long table deeper into the room, and beckoned Braig to follow, which he did with a quick teleport. Ansem eyed the table’s contents, and with a decisive sweep of the hand, they were all swallowed into darkness, leaving a completely bare surface behind. He gestured gracefully to the table, licking his lips.  
  


“Sit here, would you?”  
  


He watched carefully as Braig paused, the Heartless seeming to cycle through possibilities of what was to happen next in his newly revived mind.  
  


“Heh...man, if you wanted to eat me out…” He shook his head with an extremely toothsome grin, and laughed. “Always had a flare for the theatrical. At least there’s no chains this time, eh, old coot?”   
  


Ansem gave Braig a particular look, as if asking whether or not the other wanted that. The other, in turn, propped himself on the table, leaning back and spreading his legs wide.  
  


“...and if you do bring out the chains, I’m not complainin’.”  
  


“A fine proposition, Braig...but I’m afraid your conclusion is off.” Ansem savored the way Braig’s eye widened, the anticipation he could feel through the bond, the way his already wide smile grew hungrier.   
  


“Oh?”  
  


The response came swiftly, answered by Ansem’s body. He swung himself over the other man, positioning himself so that his slit ground against Braig’s own, letting his weight do the work of pressing into and teasing that sensitive spot. Braig immediately arched, a gasp caught in his throat.  
  


“ _ Fuck, _ Xehanort…!”   
  


The elder Heartless rocked against the younger, eliciting more gruff gasps and groans, and milking out even more juices from their twitching folds. His mind lingered on how their slits seemed to suck on each other with the same intensity his own had pulled Braig’s tongue, latching on and making it so that it was difficult for them to disconnect. ‘ _ This has to be to more effectively secure reproduction’ _ , Ansem noted mentally, and let himself take in every pleasure the sensation offered.  
  


“So much for takin’ it easy, huh, Xehanort? What, suddenly decided the risks weren’t that great?”  
  


“You should know by now that spontaneity is one of my...deepest instincts.”  
  


A loud chuckle was the only response Braig gave, showing off every sharp tooth in his maw, letting his snake like tongue roll out, eye becoming more and more unfocused with every movement. Ansem appreciated every inch of the new Heartless beneath him; appreciated his delicious wet folds, the animalistic features that graced his face, the sharp claws that dug into the table, the dark fibers that wound around him like muscles and pulsed with every thrust. A beautiful, dark creature, one that he couldn’t help but love...as much as a Heartless could love.  
  


Which, as it turned out, was much more than he had expected.  
  


Every rock into Braig was met with raised hips and desperate growls. Ansem could feel how the other Heartless, still close to the walls and corners within the Library, watched them, how they shared in this new and delightful experience, shared the vibrant feelings and pleasures and desires and instincts that shook through the link. Briefly, he wondered if this revelation would influence the activities of the other Heartless, and if he would see other Heartless capable of sexual reproduction as a result of this experiment. But as much as his mind wanted to work at those details, even he couldn’t keep too deep in his thoughts when the body of his companion was so sensual, so wonderfully sculpted in the throes of ecstasy.  
  


Surprising himself, he leaned in and kissed Braig. Perhaps that, too, was instinct, if fondness...if love could be classified as such. Braig, spurred on by his own instincts he assumed, kissed back; despite the rough thrusting between them, the kiss was surprisingly gentle, both taking the time to enjoy each other’s lips and tongues working against the other’s. Even without words...even without the benefit of the link, they affirmed their love.   
  


An instinctive bond.  
  


Ansem could feel his orgasm start to build, and judging by the way Braig had started to mumble mixed curses and pleas, he was as well. Their folds by now were firmly interlocked, and it was hard to do much more than shakily shimmy his hips. With breath hissing between clenched teeth, Ansem felt the built up tension with him come to a head--and snap. He groaned deeply from his chest, and that deep pulsing spot inside of him surged forward, growing within, swelling and then releasing load after load of something dark, sticky, and warm. It flowed into Braig as the Heartless shook with his own orgasm, ejaculating his own dark fluids, exchanging with Ansem.  
  


Bent over the other, Ansem inhaled and exhaled deeply, waiting for the edge to back off. Curiously, he noted how it felt as though something had shifted when he came; his teeth felt larger and sharper in his mouth, his vision tinted yellow, and, he noticed with amusement, his hands had grown sharper, claw like nails. Braig’s own clawed hand ghosted over Ansem’s face, making him lean into the touch.  
  


“Damn, old coot...really brought out the beast in you, huh?” Braig said with a tinge of admiration in his voice. His eye lingered on those newly transformed portions, sliding down Ansem’s sweat speckled body. A low, rumbling purr sounded in Ansem’s throat.  
  


“Perhaps so...no more than yourself. And what a beautiful sight to see.”  
  


They leaned into each other and shared another kiss, their slits finally releasing and contracting, leaving nothing but a sticky, dark mess behind. They lay against each other for a few moments, taking the opportunity to admire what they had missed in that time apart. Braig ran fingers through Ansem’s white locks; Ansem dotted kisses along the rugged jawline that had only recently returned to Braig’s form. Eventually, the two parted, fixing themselves as best as they could.  
  


“So,” Braig started, when he was finally able to catch his breath and think again. “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Lonesome...you’re not gonna try and dismiss me after all that, are you?”  
  


Ansem, who let his hand brush down Braig’s arm and settle over his hand warmly, gazed mildly into Braig’s eye, and then turned to the large windows filtering in that soft autumn light.  
  


“This isn’t the only World out there. Why would I stop before I educated you on them all, before they blink out into Darkness?"  
  


“You want me to travel with you, then?”  
  


Ansem stayed quiet, though his grip on Braig’s hand tightened.  
  


Braig chuckled softly, and nodded.   
  


“Together, then.”


End file.
